


A Home in Your Skin

by taranoire



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taranoire/pseuds/taranoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed is late after being held up by drunk, sexist cops. Roy is not pleased. Gender roles are questioned. A (hopefully non-problematic) subversion of the typical "Ed-hates-being-called-a-girl" trope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Home in Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> TW for slurs. Rated for many uses of the word "fuck." This is a rewritten version of an old fic. I realized my opinions have changed a lot since I wrote it originally, and I wanted my work to reflect that. Originally titled "Night In." I've left the old version on my fanfiction.net profile if you're interested in seeing what it was before.

Shadows painted the walls, warm firelight accentuating darkness in a seemingly ethereal glow. Three-quarters of oil remained in the brass lamp that sat on the bedroom side table, enough light for Edward to see by as he crept into the bedroom.

It had been a hard week. Not harrowing, as most weeks went, but demanding enough so that Edward wanted nothing more than to strip off his muddy boots and crawl fully-clothed into bed with his significant other. He had recently come to understand that Roy loved him. Roy _loved_ him and sometimes the weight and heat of it was overwhelming, overbearing, because when Roy loved it was with everything he had, including the dark and tortured mess of his past. 

Edward entered quietly and smiled as his eyes fell on the room's only other occupant. A kind of heat flared up beneath his ribs as if he had swallowed hot soup or tea. The feeling still had a novel quality although he had been experiencing it in waves for close to three or four months now. Decorative playful terms like 'lover' or 'boyfriend' sprang to mind, but he wasn't sure his and Roy's relationship could be defined in such petty summations.

Indeed, they were still struggling to figure it out. What were they to each other, really? Roy loved him. Yes. But what kind of love was it?

He was careful as he placed his coat on the knob of the armoire, too cautious to risk opening its creaking hinges, and slipped bare-foot beneath the heavy olive duvet. To his surprise, Roy was awake, bleary dark eyes watching him in the firelight. Immediately the man pulled him closer, warmer. He had a constant need to touch, to know what he saw was real. 

"Missed you," Ed said softly. He had learned that, at least when they were alone, he could reveal that much. 

He closed his eyes as Roy's fingers brushed past his cheek and then began to work at the knotted mess his braid had become. For reasons he only partially understood (the softness, the closeness), the man liked messing with his hair. It was nice to let go: be open, vulnerable, trusting, allow Roy to smooth it down against his head. He felt safe. 

"You're late," Roy murmured, voice even. He gently twisted Edward's blond hair around his finger. "Did you run into any trouble on the way home?"

"Civilian police," Ed muttered distastefully, brow furrowing as he remembered the events of the evening. He and Al had just been getting off the train when they spotted a group of bored cops harassing two women at a bus stop. Edward had jumped in to tell them to fuck off, but they were drunk on testosterone and stupidity and tried to start shit. "Didn't get in a fight or nothin'. They were out of line. Had to put 'em in their place."

Roy paused in his grooming, though his face gave nothing away. "What were they doing, and how exactly did you 'put them in their place'?"

Ed snorted, and then scooted closer so that they were almost nose to nose. Roy glanced longingly at his lips, then back up towards his eyes. 

"Relax," Ed said, pressing a quick kiss to sleep-warm skin. "I told you, I'm smarter than that. Just showed them my watch and told them to screw themselves. No violence really. For the most part." He glared down at nothing in particular, and remained silent, head tucked under Roy's chin as if it belonged.

Roy had a tendency to contemplate things in complete and utter silence, and Ed had a feeling he was doing it now. It was annoying.

"What? What are you thinking here?" 

"...'For the most part'?"

"Well – yeah, I mean, shit was said, but I didn't punch anyone," he defended, tilting his head up. He felt a wet spark flare to life again in his gut. All he had wanted was to lie down and forget about how miserable and stupid his choice in career was, and now his goddamn boyfriend (lover? CO? _Fiance_ ?) couldn't leave well enough alone. "Go the fuck to sleep, Mustang."

"Not until you tell me what's bothering you. You brood; I can practically hear the steam coming out of your ears." 

"Blah. I don't want to talk about it." 

"Did they hurt you?" 

"What? No," Edward said, automail hand strangling the duvet anxiously. Roy had always been overprotective, to an extent, but it took a dramatic turn once they started date-fucking. Now if anyone so much as looked at him funny the colonel would threaten to set them on fire. Which he secretly welcomed, but still. "They pushed me around a little, pulled my hair, tried intimidating me, you know. Called me things; a bitch and a fag. Said I looked like a girl or somethin', so yeah, that pissed me off." 

Roy-- _seethed_. He was pale and shaken, jaw clenched tight. "Please tell me you at least hit one of them." 

"God, I wish I could have," Ed snarled, squirming back so that Roy could see the anger in his eyes. "Do you have any fucking idea how _stupid_ it is to use, what--femininity as an insult? Is that what it was? Halle-fuckin-lujah, you misogynist dick, you've just reached the pinnacle of being an actual human shitstain, congratulations. Here's your trophy. Made of actual shit. I mean what the _fuck_ is wrong with people if being compared to a woman is the lowest of low blows? What the actual fuck?" 

"So you're not offended they called you...those _words_ but you're angry they intended to hurt you with them." 

"Yeah, that's what I said," Edward snapped. "Like yeah, whatever, I know I'm not a woman and I'm not sure I want to be because I'm generally okay with having a penis, I'm cool with who I am except for the automail and the scarring and the shitty personality. And I'm okay with my boyf-- _you_ having a dick too, because it's a really fuckin' nice one and you pound me like you'll never get the chance again. It's awesome. It's hot. We're guys and that's nice. 

"But that's not what they mean, you know? They mean I have pretty hair and a killer ass and wear way too much leather and like getting fucked by other dudes, and they think--that makes you a girl, the girl in the relationship. But that is so fucked up, Roy. That is really, really fucked up. Because that means they think girls are supposed to be the ones getting fucked, they think women are supposed to be a certain way, and that if they aren't there's something wrong with them. They think girls are less than they are. They're so trapped in their fucking awful little bubble they can't even grasp what it means to be two gay dudes who may or may not fit predisposed gender ideals. Fuck, I really need a cigarette or something..." 

"You don't smoke, darling." 

"I know."

"Would you like me to get you some cigarettes?" 

"No, thanks. I just... I can honestly not even fucking imagine what it would be like to face that--that hatred, that sickness, constantly. To be wanted because you're soft and pretty but hated for it, too. You know, those women at the bus stop? They were minding their own goddamn business and some pigs show up and start, start _fucking_ with them just because they're women and that's the status quo, that's the way things are. But they couldn't do shit. The only reason _I_ could do anything is because I'm military and have a dick, but I still got insults thrown at me because I wasn't masculine enough for them." 

Roy was back to ruffling his hair. "...I'm not the most masculine of men either, Ed. You know that. I go to a nail salon regularly and I've never worn a shirt that wasn't dry cleaned, but I can't cook"--("I've noticed")--"and I smell like sulfur half the time. I don't think I'll ever really understand how sexuality and gender work, not really, but I do know that not a single person truly fits into that fucking _awful_ little bubble. And honestly, Ed, I don't care." 

"So why do they have this obsession with it in the first place?" 

"Maybe they're jealous of you. Maybe they want you, and you've confused them and it's made them angry. Maybe someone else has said the same stupid, vile things to them and they're terrified of being who they are. There are a number of reasons human beings act the way they do, Ed, and it all comes down to vicious circles." 

Edward rolled his eyes. "Well, fat fucking chance of them getting their dicks wet if they treat people like that. Besides, I'm in love with a stupid asshole named Colonel Roy J. Mustang, and nothing's gonna change that." 

He realized, too late, that he had used the forbidden 'L' word, but by the time his brain calculated the consequences he had already trailed off into an unholy silence. He relinquished his grip on the poor duvet, and returned to his coveted spot beneath Roy's chin where he could breathe in the scent of the man's musk and his own shame in relative quiet. 

He felt Roy's words whispered against his head. "I love you too, Edward Elric. Your extraordinary ass included. I am so hopelessly in love with you, all that you are, no matter what you're wearing or what you're doing, how you like to be made love to or the way you say my name. You're everything to me." 

A pause. Edward smiled like an idiot but it was hidden against the man's skin. He tilted his face up slightly. "I kinda like you sometimes. You're a pain in the ass and you hog the blankets and you never save any coffee for me and you're a bitch of a commanding officer, but—I don't know. You're smart. And you're good at saying stuff. I like it." 

Roy chuckled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Does this mean we can go to sleep now?" 

"Yes. But only on the condition that you learn how to French braid my hair, because that would be fucking intense." 


End file.
